A Moment in Time
by RizzlesSizzles
Summary: Life is a series of moments in time. Some of those moments can last a lifetime. Rizzles F/F


**Disclaimer:** The characters of Rizzoli and Isles belong to Tess Gerritsen, Janet Tamaro, and TNT. I write for entertainment purposes and not for profit. Absolutely no copyright infringement is intended.

**A/N:** This started out as a completely different story altogether, and then didn't end up as a story but a bunch of seperate scenes that I thought would make a nice series of oneshots marking out different stages of Maura and Jane's relationship within the same universe as it starts out in. Consequently, when I started writing, I ended up with the middle done first, the idea of the beginning and a vague idea of an ending and the bits inbetween. Confusing, I know but I've decided to write this first part and if people would like to see where it goes, then I'd be happy to run with it, as I've got several later chapters sitting around gathering dust. If it doesn't seem like anyone wants to see it continue, then its written in such a way that it can stand on its own.

That said, I really hope you like it. Thanks for reading!

* * *

I try to focus on what Korsak is saying, but I can't seem to stop my mind from wandering of its own accord. Not that it really matters, the case is at a standstill and Korsak has nothing new to add, none of us do. It's a game we played often. Theorising endlessly until we think we've come up with a theory to fit the facts; something which will actually expand on what we know in the end and get us that little bit closer to catching our perp. The only problem is we've got no adequate theories and precious little forensic evidence to go on.

There's no doubt that we have a serial killer on our hands. Six victims in as many weeks is testament to that. But, it also leaves us with more questions than it answers. Serial killers don't just suddenly start killing, they don't just suddenly settle on a convenient one victim a week policy. They start off slowly and work their way up to it as their fantasies progress. This guy has killed before, but heaven only knows where, because it hadn't been in Massachusetts. Statistically speaking, the killer is most likely white, is aged 20-35 years of age and factually speaking, is nothing short of violently brutal. There is no empirical evidence to give us any clue as to whether we are even on the right track. Theory and speculation is all we have.

Even the Behavioural Sciences Unit at Quantico is flying by the seat of their pants. Matt Gibson, the special agent assigned to consult with us on the case has twenty years of experience with profiling and even he can't say what we are dealing with beyond what the statistics are telling him. Besides being white, and female, and all between the ages of 25 and 30, the victims had one other thing in common: they'd all been so savagely beaten that there were very few, if any, unbroken bones remaining in their body. And yet, their faces were completely untouched and unmarked by the violence that had befallen them.

I've never seen anything quite so terrible before and believe me, I've seen some awful sights in my time. In a way, I think I've gotten off lightly compared to Maura Isles, our Chief Medical Examiner. She hasn't even been in the job a full six months yet and already she's got something this awful to deal with. It's kind of strange actually, but most people assume she's cold hearted and unapproachable, much like the bodies lying on her table, devoid of all life and feeling.

I know that it isn't the case. Maura feels as much as the rest of us do, more in some ways. The rest of us have learned to keep a lid on things, never to feel it too deeply or personally, and yet Maura has treated those women as if they were her own flesh and blood. Until I met her, I don't think I'd ever seen anybody treat a body with the same amount of respect as they would a living person. She stood watch over them, waiting for them to speak to her, as if they were only sleeping under her protective gaze. I think she feels it far more deeply than she wants to; takes it personally that she can't find anything to tie to the killer to them.

I think we all do, but somehow it seems worse coming from Doctor Isles. I've never really been able to figure out what it is about her, but there's something I can't put my finger on. It kinda reminds me of the Tin man. Each time he lost a part of himself chopping down a tree, he replaced it with a piece of tin, until finally there was nothing of him left. But Maura still has her brain, and somewhat painfully for her I suppose, she still has her heart and a part of me wanted to chip away at the outer exterior because I really wanted to find out what was underneath and what made her tick. I wanted to know why she'd shut herself off, why it felt as if certain things were too painful for her to experience.

Six months isn't long enough to say you know somebody, and we'd never really socialised outside of work, nor ever in it, really. We'd had lunch quite a few times in her office to go over a case, and we'd had numerous conversations in the morgue, but I always felt like I was talking to her from behind a wall of glass. What had happened to her that made her that way? I'm not sure I'll ever get to know, but I want to try.

"Jane?" Korsak's voice pulls me from my reverie and I blink up at him, trying to get a handle on everything and push it back down where it belongs for the moment, allowing me to focus on my job.

Not that focusing is ever easy on four hours of sleep in the last twenty-four. You think I'd be used to it by now, but it never really gets any easier. Most days, I'm reminded that I'm definitely not as young as I used to be.

"Sorry Korsak, I was miles away. What did you say?" I shoot him an apologetic look, but I think he's too tired to even notice it.

He rubs his eyes and then glances up at me blearily, his suit crumpled and his tie hanging loose. "I asked if you'd had the latest tox report back from the Doc yet."

"No, I have it right here though," a somewhat familiar voice sounds behind my right shoulder and I turn round to find Maura standing there, wearing a polite but slightly awkward smile, and looking as flawless as she usually does.

I couldn't help grinning at her. The bullpen wasn't really her environment and being as busy as it was today, it appeared to have put her on the back foot and made her even more awkward.

Her honey blonde hair falls across her shoulders in perfect curls, and the red dress and black blazer she's wearing compliment her figure perfectly. She always looks so put together, even when I know she hasn't really had all that much more sleep than I have. I put it down to the fact that being several years younger than I am, she has more stamina. I think the real the reason is the fact that Maura Isles wouldn't be caught dead without the latest Gucci dress and Manolo Blahnik's.

I know this for a fact, because several weeks ago, she had the worst bout of flu I have ever seen in another human being. Besides myself of course, when I caught it from her several days later. I got an entire week of being infected with her flu, shuffling about in my dressing gown and cramming my cakehole full of junk food at night whilst stretched out on the sofa looking like Napoleon breathing his last because I didn't have the energy to do anything else after working all day.

Maura on the other hand, still found the time to primp, preen, blow dry, moisturise, and all of the other complicated stuff I'm sure she does to stay looking that good, and suffered with a quiet dignity by draping herself artfully over her desk to die for five minutes during her breaks. I don't know how she managed it, because corpses and the flu don't go together. Corpses, plus the flu, equals Jane Rizzoli with her head down the plumbing for most of the afternoon. It didn't seem fair somehow; she looked like a million dollars even if her nose was a bit red, and I looked like a snot-factory on legs. It took me a while to forgive her, and I'm still not sure I'm totally done with bitching about it yet.

On the other hand, I've always been a sucker for a beautiful face and they don't come much more beautiful than Doctor Isles. Even if she does have an annoying tendency to spurt random facts at the most inopportune of times.

"Hey, Maura," I greet her warmly, using her first name this time without her having to tell me. I'm sure she was sick of reminding me to use her first name. It was our usual conversation opener.

"You remembered, Jane. It's only taken you six months," she replies, a soft breathy laugh barely audible over the noise of Crowe chewing the fat with his buddies instead of working as per usual.

"Please, take a seat," I gesture to the chair beside my desk and she thanks me graciously before sitting down. "Thanks for bringing the file up, I appreciate it."

I can see Korsak smirking at me out of the corner of my eye, and I know he's finding it funny that I'm so nice and polite to her. I can afford to be now that I've gotten over my annoyance at her horrible tendency to call blood reddish brown stains. Actually, now that I think about it, it still annoys me. Why does she have to be so damn restrained all the time? In all fairness, the quality of her work has yielded serious results; I really can't stay mad at her for that even if Korsak is finding my polite mood on no sleep at all amusing.

"That's quite all right. Tox testing came back clear. Being as I was frustrated with the result, I did a whole host of further tests and unfortunately, nothing came up."

"Damn. Thank you for trying though, we all appreciate the work you've done on this." I smile at her, wanting to let her know that it's okay, because I know she can often take it personally when we don't catch killers, as if somehow it's her fault that we haven't. Not that she's ever said it, but sometimes, when her guard is momentarily down, her eyes tell a story she can't or won't.

"However," she carries on, a smile lighting up her eyes that makes me think she knows something. "I wondered how the killer was able to subdue his victims when there was no sign of restraint, no defensive wounds, especially no damage to the face. I'm sure if these women had been conscious and unrestrained, they would have fought the killer in some way."

"You're right, they would have." I remember back to the time Hoyt kidnapped me. I fought like hell, but sometimes it isn't enough. I got lucky.

"He must have had his reasons for wanting their faces to remain undamaged," she continues. "It suggests the killer feels he has some sort of an intimate relationship with them, while the injuries to the rest the body suggest rage. I know that no sort of anaesthesia had been used, tox testing ruled that out. I was unsure about Chloroform as an inhalant but testing on nasal swabs ruled that out, too. I then began thinking about the only avenue left open to me. I began thinking about untraceable poisons. Well, nothing is completely untraceable, that would suggest the old adage is untrue."

"What adage is that?" I ask, never a hundred percent sure I always know or understand what she's talking about, but find it fascinating anyway. Evidently so do Frost and Korsak, as they've dragged their chairs closer and are desperately waiting for information.

"Every contact leaves a trace," she replies. "But this time, I found something that may help. There were certain neurological changes to the brain which I couldn't be sure weren't related to massive internal trauma sustained by repeated blows to the body. At least at first."

"How do you mean?" I ask. I need to be sure I understand what she means.

"Rapid acceleration and deceleration of the head can cause the brain to bounce back and forth inside the skull. The stress that results in these rapid movements can pull apart the brain's nerve fibres, causing extensive damage to brain tissue. This type of injury can cause swelling and haemorrhaging, typically seen in vehicle crashes and episodes of physical violence. With particular reference to shaken baby syndrome."

"Okay, we're with you so far," Frost nods and indicates that she should carry on.

"When I opened the victims up, the stomach and chest cavities were nothing more than a mass of clotted blood. In all my years as a doctor, I've never seen anything quite like it outside of traumatic vehicular deaths. When I opened up the head for examination, I found evidence of cerebral oedema, and focal brainstem haemorrhaging. Similar injuries were found in the first five victims. However, even with the massive trauma to the internal organs, I was able to find evidence of myolysis of the cardiac papillary muscles, along with contraction band necrosis of the myocardium. None of those injuries are consistent with traumatic brain injury resulting from being severely beaten. It doesn't add up."

"What does that mean in plain English, Doc?" Korsak leaned forward, knowing as well as I did that she was on to something.

"The papillary muscles are located in the ventricles of the heart. They attach to the cusps of the atrioventricular valves, also known as the mitral and tricuspid valves, via the chordate tendinae and they contract to prevent inversion or prolapse of these valves."

"Not really selling it here, Maura," I grinned at her, and she smiled back, realising she'd fallen into what I'd recently started calling her Google-speak again.

"I'm sorry. The atrioventricular valves control the flow of blood in the heart. Myolisis of the cardiac muscles simply means that the muscle tissue is dissolved or liquefied. Contraction band necrosis is a type of uncontrolled cell death, unique to cardiac myocytes."

The three of us try to wrap our heads around that, and slowly but surely, I think I understand what she's trying to say. Well, I think I do, but I suppose running it past her won't hurt.

"Myocytes," I say, shifting in my chair to ease the aching in my back. "Aren't they a particular kind of cell found in muscle? In this particular case, being cardiac muscle? Aren't they are responsible for generating the electrical impulses that control the heart rate?"

Maura looks genuinely surprised and then leans forward to pat me on the arm enthusiastically, which causes a strange tingling sensation and the realisation that it's the first time she's ever made physical contact with me for any reason that wasn't work related. "Among other things, yes. Somebody paid attention in biology class."

"It was the only science class I liked." I pause, missing the warmth of her hand on the bare skin of my arm already when she takes her hand back. "What you're essentially saying is that something caused the cells to die, destroying the muscle and thereby causing cardiac function to cease. But at the same time, it caused injuries to the brain too, right?"

"That's exactly right. And without further testing, I would never have caught it. That's why I didn't catch it in the first five victims, because the beatings were so severe, that the changes to the brain weren't entirely unexpected. Without having any point of reference as regards the hearts of the victims, which were all so badly damaged as to make it impossible to determine any injuries at all, I had nothing to go on. His method of debilitation had always bothered me, but I had no reason to suspect anything untoward at first. This time, I think something spooked him; the injuries were quite severe, but not to the same degree as the first five victims. Hence the reason I was able to find the myolisis and the necrosis in the contraction band. I've had representative testing done on samples for the first five victims and the results are consistent with the sixth victim. I think this is the lead we've been looking for."

"What was the cause of death in your opinion?" I ask. I'm feeling suddenly thrilled at the new information, knowing that we might now have a chance at catching the psychopath after all.

"Tetra methylene disulfo tetramine poisoning. Laboratory identification of the compound is not practical in patients with acute poisoning. This is because of difficulty in identification by routine laboratory analysis, but if poisoning is suspected, every attempt should be made to subsequently confirm the presence of it which I did do by using Gas Chromatography testing."

"What is this tetra stuff?" Frost asks, still looking contemplative and trying to piece everything together, but I have a feeling that the pieces don't fit for him yet, and they're not fitting for me either.

"Tetra methylene disulfo tetramine otherwise known as TETS is a tasteless white powder that is slightly soluble in water, Dimethyl sulfoxide and acetone, and insoluble in methanol and ethanol."

"You're doing it again, Maura," I tease, pleased when she understands that I'm joking and clicks her tongue playfully at me, which isn't something she usually does, and I'd go so far as to say that she's probably walking on air at the moment and if she's right, then I might shortly be joining her.

"TETS is an organic compound that is used as a rodenticide. More commonly recognised as rat poison." Maura raises her hands with a flourish, as if she were a conductor delivering a lifetime's opus.

"Well, that's great," Korsak replies, equally as puzzled as Frost and I are.

The information is fantastic, but I'm not sure how that helps any. I must be missing something. Maybe if I'd just had eight unbroken hours of sleep, I wouldn't be sitting here looking like a complete tool when she's on top of her game. Damnit Rizzoli, get your shit together and focus.

"Is it readily available?" I ask, wondering just how easy it is to get a hold of this stuff.

"No, it's a banned substance. It's a hundred times more toxic than potassium chloride. It's a more powerful convulsant than Strychnine. There is no known antidote and the lethal dose for humans is around 7-10 milligrams. All of the victims had at least three times that in their system. There was a case of Tetra methylene disulfo tetramine poisoning in New York back in 2002 resulting in the death of an infant after exposure to illegally imported rat poison. It resulted in seizures, massive and multiple neurological deficits which eventually resulted in death. And, you're still not getting this, are you?" Her smile is patient; she knows I can't keep up right now.

I couldn't help shaking my head in a non-plussed sort of way that would have people wondering how the hell I passed my Detective exam. In my defence, she's frighteningly intelligent. "Humour me."

"The rat poison was used as a way to debilitate these women. When the beatings started, the worst of the symptoms were yet to hit, but they were ill enough not to be able to fight back. It was overkill, if the beating didn't work, the poison certainly would. He didn't want these women talking after the fact; he made sure they never would. Only he didn't count on the fact that they could still speak even in death. The cousin of the first victim, the guy you interviewed after you found his number on her cell phone, was a Wildlife officer for Massachusetts Animal Control. Animal control, in part, deals with nuisance animal removal."

"My god," I breathe out slowly, feeling my heart rate speed up as my brain finally connects with her train of thought. I had missed it. I had been so completely bogged down in a massive amount of information that I hadn't been able to put the pieces together.

"I can't be sure, that I'm right I mean. It's more your job than mine to theorise and speculate and I almost never do..." Maura broke off, looking down at the floor and becoming shy again.

I jump up from my seat and wrap my arms around her, kissing her soundly on the cheek before grabbing her hands and smiling at her like a fruitcake. "You, Maura Isles, are a certified genius."

"I know," she replied, looking slightly taken aback at all of the attention she was receiving, not just from me but from Frost and Korsak, too, who were both busy congratulating her.

Anybody else would have taken that as conceited behaviour but for Maura, it was simply the truth. Did I mention the woman is so damn literal? I told her last week that I almost wet myself laughing when Frankie landed on his ass and slid down the entire length of his street in the ice and snow. Rather than laughing, she asked me if I'd considered pelvic floor exercises to strengthen the muscles and prevent incontinence. This time, she wasn't being bigheaded, she was actually a certified genius and she'd just proved it.

"I'm going to go and arrest the son of a bitch," I say, shrugging my jacket on and making sure I've got my gun and my badge. "Don't go anywhere though; I want you to watch the interrogation. And when he cracks, we've got some serious celebrating to do."

"Okay, I guess I could stick around." she says, looking mightily pleased about being included.

"What's all the fuss about?" Crowe asks, sauntering over with a few of his cronies.

"We've just got a big break in our case," I grin at him, enjoying the sour look on his mug, the same look he always gets when Frost, Korsak and I are two steps away from getting a collar.

"Super Rizzoli to the rescue again, huh?" He says, spitting the words out as if they make him sick.

"Can't take the credit on this one. This one is the Doc's." I beam, hugely proud of her for reasons I can't fathom, besides the obvious one of being so damn clever. I suppose it has much to do with her childlike innocence, which often peeks through despite the awful horrors she sees on a daily basis. It's just another reason she intrigues me. She doesn't seem to be just one thing or the other, but many different things, complimentary and contradictory, all rolled into a ball.

"Huh?" Crowe's jaw hangs open, looking as dumb as I know he can sometimes be.

"Doctor Isles figured this one out on her own. She's the hero here." My badass rep or not, this one's all her.

"Heroine," Maura corrects me, earning herself an eye-roll and a friendly shove on the shoulder from me.

"See you later, Doctor Smarty-pants. Got me some crime fightin' to do."

"Jane," she calls out to me, hesitantly taking a step closer and looking unsure of what she wants to say. "Be safe, okay?"

"Always, Maura." I wink at her, and then leave the bullpen with Frost and Korsak following.

* * *

"Why did you do it, Jimmy?" It's all I can do to control my temper as I sit facing the perp.

Korsak is sitting next to me and Frost is leaning up against the wall casually. Neither of them wanted me to come in here without backup and although I'd never admit it, I'm glad they're both here. The look behind this guy's eyes is nothing short of chilling, and I almost imagine I can feel Maura's discomfort from behind the two way mirror, where she's watching along with Cavanaugh. She can see exactly what I'm seeing, the way his eyes were crawling all over me and I knew he was planning what he'd do to me if he ever got me alone. I know that Maura, just like I am, is imagining what he did to those poor women, and know he is reliving the fantasy through me.

"Did she piss you off or something?" Korsak chips in. "Families suck, don't they?"

"Sure do," Frost agreed. "Can choose your friends but not your family. Bet she teased you a bit too much, didn't she?"

Jimmy continued to grin, saying absolutely nothing, busily looking at me from under a greasy dark fringe through half-lidded eyes that had once been a startling shade of blue. Now, they were dull and red rimmed, the whites of those eyes bloodshot through lack of sleep. His clothes too, had seen better days and I could smell him from where I sat.

I imagine my eyes look similarly bloodshot, because I haven't had any sleep for the last thirty six hours either. I've just spent the best part of eight hours interrogating this asshole and nothing any of us has said makes a difference.

Maura has managed to match carpet fibers from the trunk of his car to the first victim and was similarly engaged in having the other five samples tested but we needed to break this bastard. We need a confession or there was a chance the jury would cut him loose. That was my biggest fear. Even with the advent of cop shows, and everyone thinking they were an armchair forensic expert, confusion over which procedures were real and how difficult the science was in real life often confused juries and no matter how many times pathologists, or criminalists or cops explained it, television had planted the seed beforehand.

"This bastard isn't gonna crack," Cavanaugh's voice crackled into life over my earpiece.

Oh ye of little faith.

"He's comfortable," Maura's voice sounded inside my head this time. "Not that I have much psychiatric training beyond various rotations, but he's not feeling threatened in the slightest. He can do this for days."

I privately agree with her. This is why I know I have to up the ante, somewhat because I can't take much more of this. I slip my blazer off, and lean back in my chair, knowing that the further I lean back, the more my shirt tightens around my chest. His eyes flicker, crawling up my body, his eyes riveted to my breasts.

I stand slowly, my movements somewhat exaggerated as my hips sway for effect, something which I usually don't do because I don't make a habit of walking seductively, at work or otherwise. It's completely at odds with who I project myself to be, but I know that even if I appear submissive, I can still be in control. It's basic psychology, or so I'm told.

"He's interested in your body language," Maura speaks again. As I pass the mirror, I wink at her, but it serves another purpose too, as he can see me and assumes I'm winking at him. "He finds you sexually stimulating."

Good. That's exactly what I was hoping for.

I pace around the room, knowing his eyes follow me everywhere I turn and when I know exactly what it is that he's going to say to me, I approach the table and lean down toward him, giving him an unhindered view of my bra down my shirt. The thought that he can see me like this makes my skin crawl; it's the first time I've ever exposed myself to anybody on the job like this, but I figure my discomfort at his eyes clinging to my skin is nothing in comparison to getting a conviction.

"Did you want Sara as much as you want me?" I ask him huskily, dropping my voice low like I might if I were talking to a lover. "Don't try to hide it Jimmy, I can see it in your eyes. I bet you were desperate to touch her right? She'd been teasing you all her life, huh? Good girls don't tease their cousins do they? They shouldn't make you want them, right? Shouldn't make you feel that way. The bitch had it coming right? Do you think I've got it coming?"

His breathing had quickened, and I couldn't tell whether he was aroused or pissed off. I suppose for somebody like him, anger and arousal were one and the same.

"Would you teach me a lesson, Jimmy? Show me whose boss, keep me in line?"

This time, he laughed, a harsh barking sound emanating from cruel lips as he stroked at the stubble on his chin. "I don't deny screwing her. No law against that."

"Certainly isn't; at least not here in Massachusetts." I nod. "Beating her to death because she won't screw you back is kinda illegal though."

He stiffens at this and I can see I've hit on a raw nerve.

"Keep up with that line of questioning," Maura pipes up again. "Sorry...it's just that his body language and facial expression is telling me that she rejected him."

I turn and smile briefly, letting Maura know it's okay. We both came to the same conclusion, she using science and me using my instincts. I admit it's nice having a female wingman for once. Nothing like a bit of female solidarity and all out awesome girl power, to sock it back to the boys.

"Ah, I see why now. A girl like that isn't going to want to go near somebody like you. I mean, I don't exactly blame her. When I get with a guy, I at least want to know he's going to be good in the sack." Okay, that's very untrue, but I'm not about to blurt my sexual preferences out. Not that it would put him off, he'd probably see it as a challenge. I deliberately look down at his crotch to aid me in my next point. "Doesn't look like much."

He grits his teeth and leans forward slightly. I can tell his anger is building and I know I've got him right where I want him. Korsak and Frost know it too, and their body language changes from alert to ready to strike at a moment's notice.

"Not going exactly well for you, is it? Your cousin won't take a roll in the hay with you, and then neither does Susie, Abbie, Emma, Tammy, or Michelle. Must be really frustrating when they won't put out for you. Or maybe you just couldn't get it up?"

He growls almost inaudibly and I see spittle on his lips, and I know I'm pushing all of his buttons. Maybe just a little further, perhaps.

"Be careful, Jane. He's on the edge." Maura sounded tense and I didn't blame her, I'm not exactly having a field day myself.

"Fuck being careful, Rizzoli," Cavanaugh counters. "Push the bastard over the edge."

"With all due respect Lieutenant Cavanaugh, when provoked he will become extremely violent. Jane could be in a lot of danger."

Bless her little Jimmy Choos.

I decide to compromise and put a little distance between me and him as I plan my next course of action.

"Why'd you cover their faces?" I had no positive proof that he did, but I catch his reaction: slightly startled flick of the eyes before they're back to being empty again. "Couldn't take them lookin' at you, not when you couldn't do anything about it, huh?"

"You might be on to something," Maura says. "He shows signs of arousal at intervals. I don't think he's suffering from erectile dysfunction unless he feels under pressure. He wants to have sexual intercourse with a woman, but he can never quite manage it. The killing is a substitute for his sexual release. He kills them because he can't be with them, either through rejection or his physical inability to do it, or both."

God, the stuff she comes out with. I would've been happier knowing the guy didn't have any function at all, erectile or otherwise. That kind of stuff can put me off my food for days.

"I bet you covered their faces afterward, didn't you? You wanted them to see what you were capable of when you were beating them. But when it came right down to it, the killing wasn't enough, you wanted to be with them and yet you couldn't stand them staring at you. That's exactly why you beat them, because you're incapable of having sex with them like a normal man."

Oh, that really got to him. He's moving around in his seat and clenching his fists, the knuckles going white as he tries to reign in his anger and appear unruffled.

"Good, that's good." Maura's tone is reassuring. Normally, I don't need help and I wouldn't appreciate it, but it's kinda nice to know she has my back right now. "Keep addressing the issue of his being rejected by them."

"I'm willing to bet it's nothing new, either. " I stretch my arms into the air, again causing my shirt to tighten across my breasts and immediately notice the reaction in him. I clear my throat loudly, to forestall any comment Maura is going to make about how very noticeable that reaction is now that he's leaning back in his chair. "How many times have you been rejected by a girl before?"

Nothing. He's gone back to looking smug as he looks at me suggestively. Outwardly, I'm calm but inwardly I can feel bile rise up in my throat at knowing he's guilty as hell and yet I'm having trouble proving it.

Maura is suddenly back in my earpiece. "Jane, I've just had confirmation of his DNA being found on the last victim. The pubic hair I found on her clothing isn't her own. It's his."

I resist the urge to smile, knowing we've nailed him. But a confession would be the cherry on the cake. I remain impassive, the silence getting to Frost and Korsak as much as it's getting to me.

"I wonder just how many girls turned you down. I bet if we go looking, there'll be dead bodies popping up everywhere, huh? Some fantastic lover you turned out to be."

He's gone back to looking pissed off again, and I push on because I'm tired of this shit and want it over with.

"How many women think you're crap in bed? A dozen? Two dozen? Any female who's ever met you, apparently."

Jackpot.

He launches himself out of his seat and reaches for me, but he doesn't get more than a couple of feet as Frost and Korsak grab him and force him back into his chair.

"Not that we need a confession, Jimmy, because I've got forensic evidence that came back saying you left pubic hair on Michelle's body. What happened? You get a little too excited to control yourself and leave something behind before being interrupted? Or maybe you weren't, maybe you just went limp again after deciding to sleep with her before beating her up first. Must be tough, trying to get with a girl and not being able to manage it. Kinda humiliating, huh?"

"They fucking deserved it!" he screams, spit flying down his chin and across the surface of the table. "They all fucking deserved it, just like you deserve it, you bitch!"

"Too bad you're never going to know what that feels like," I say, shooting him a smug grin and put my jacket on again. "The only place you're going asshole is the State Pen. It's just a pity there's no death penalty in the state of Massachusetts. Never mind though eh, Jimmy. No doubt somebody will take offence to what you did to those girls and decide to exact a little revenge of their own."

I close the door behind me and let out a breath I hadn't realised I was holding as nausea washes over me. I hear Maura's heels approaching and fix a smile on my face before I turn around, not wanting her to see me quite so vulnerable. I'm fairly certain she wouldn't exploit it, but it isn't in my nature to show any weakness if I can help it.

"Hey, you did good work today," she says, shooting me a genuine smile.

"Nah, you did the good work in finding the killer and helping to get him put away. I was just along for the ride. I don't know about you, but I could definitely do with a drink. Are you familiar with the Dirty Robber?"

'Yes, I've been there a couple of times."

"How about I meet you there in, say an hour? I just need to finish up a few things and then I'd like to buy you a drink."

"I'd like that, Jane. Thank you." Maura smiles brightly at me again, and I reflect that I've seen her smile more in the last 48 hours than I have in the six months she's worked here. I hope that means she likes me, because I'd quite like to be more than just casual work friends with her. I've never had somebody who is so quirky as a friend before, and although I'd normally be put off by somebody who can seem pretty insular at times, I'm not put off by her at all. Quite the opposite, in fact. I feel drawn to her in a way I've not really felt drawn to anybody else.

"No. Thank you." I smile back at her, patting her on the arm. "I'll see you soon."

With one final smile, she turns and walks down the hallway at a brisk pace, her heels still clicking in the distance even after she's out of sight.

* * *

The Dirty Robber is crowded, the patrons loud, everyone celebrating the fact that the latest scumbag down the line is behind bars. Frost and Korsak already look as if they're several beers up on me and I'm content to let them be. They're talking animatedly to Maura in a nearby booth and I'm glad because I'm a little later than I thought I'd be and I didn't like to think of her sitting alone.

I figured that she'd had six months to settle in, and knowing that we've been able to work well together in that period, it leaves me wanting to seriously begin pursuing a proper outside of work friendship with her. I think we could be good friends; I think it might be a lot of fun finding out who she really is not just what she's like at work.

"Hey Maura, hey guys. Sorry I'm late," I say breathlessly from rushing as I slip my jacket off and set down the bag I'm carrying, before sliding into the booth next to Maura.

"Detective Korsak said you liked beer, I hope this brand is okay," she says, pointing to the bottle she's placed in front of me.

"That's just fine, thank you M'lady." I bow down a little in front of her, which causes her to bite her lip and laugh at me like I'm the funniest thing she's ever seen. Maybe I am, but if that's the case then damn, that girl has lived a sheltered life. But something tells me I'd be wrong on that score; I've got a feeling she's got a secret wild streak. It's always the quiet ones you gotta watch. "Next one is on me. I still owe you a drink for your fabulous skills."

"Hey, you guys hungry?" Frost stands up and grabs a menu. "I'm starving."

"I could swallow a cheeseburger whole." Korsak nods. "Double cheeseburger with bacon and curly fries, please."

"Ladies?" Frost sends a gentlemanly enquiry our way.

"I'll have the same as Korsak, please." I turn to watch Maura as she peruses the menu.

"Hmm, maybe just a salad."

"You're not thinking of your waistline at a time like this are you?" I ask incredulously with a cheeky grin. "There's nothing wrong with you, woman. You've got a fantastic figure."

She blushes at this as she laughs in a slightly shy way, but I can't really see that she wouldn't be used to receiving compliments because she's a beautiful woman. So maybe it's me that makes her shy.

Maura shrugs self-deprecatingly. "I've always said this dress was very flatteringly cut."

"Hey, it ain't the dress, believe me." I then have to hide a blush of my own as I take a long sip of beer to hide the fact I've just said something I probably shouldn't have, even if it is true.

"In that case, I'll have the same as Jane please, Detective Frost." Maura smiles, tactfully not drawing any attention to my red face as Frost disappears to order the food and Korsak follows him for another round of drinks.

I take the opportunity while they're gone to lean down and reach into the bag I was carrying. Straightening up, I awkwardly place a fancy red box with a bow on the lid on the table in front of her. I take a deep breath and gaze up at her, as she shoots me a questioning look, her brow furrowed in the way it usually is when she's leaning over the autopsy table and intent on solving a puzzle.

"What's this?"

"It's a gift. Open it and find out."

With a shy grin, she lifts the lid on the big box and picks up the small velvet box nestled inside. As she presses the lid back, she gasps as her eyes widen. I see her hands shaking as she lifts the gift from where it's resting against blue satin and holds it gently, looking at it with reverence.

"Jane, you can't." Her voice cracks. "I can't accept this."

I turn to face her, tucking one leg underneath the other as I look at the brass detective shield she's holding in her hand. The number 825 is plainly visible and I know she knows it's my badge number. I also know she knows that it's the commemorative counterpart to the one I wear on my belt every day of my working life. It was the one I was awarded when I was assigned to homicide and it's always been one of my proudest possessions because it reminds me that I achieved so many things that day, despite my age and my gender. But a part of me felt like now was the right time to make this kind of gesture.

I'm not sure I would have given it to anyone else, but it just feels right to give it to her. I can't explain why that is. Sometimes, something just is, and you have to trust it. This is one of those times.

"You earned your detective badge fair and square, Maura." I make eye contact with her and can see her eyes clouding over with uncharacteristic emotion, something she normally is very careful to keep hidden. "I want you to have it, you're my friend."

"You think of me as your friend?" she asks, a lone tear escaping her eye as she holds the brass shield affectionately. "I've often considered you a friend, but I wasn't sure if you did. I never really had a proper friend before."

"I'm sure we've always been friends," I reply, still not quite knowing how to explain why I feel it was important for her to have something that belonged to me, something that was important and very near to my heart, because I'm still not quite sure how or why I feel that way myself. I still can't understand why not knowing even means something at all. "But I'd like to get to know you a lot better outside of work."

"I'd really like that, too. Thank you, Jane. This is wonderful. I've never had such a wonderful gift before," she says with a smile, several more tears spilling from hazel eyes that seem much larger and more expressive than they normally are.

"C'mere," I say, leaning across and invading her personal space somewhat to give her a hug, which really isn't like me. I don't invite physical contact, am not the cuddly or touchy feely type but I think there's a part of me deep down that has sensed that when she gives her friendship, she gives freely of herself and I really would like to meet her halfway.

Maybe that explains my need to give her my badge at all. My badge is me, it's who I am, and by giving that to her, I'm laying myself wide open to her friendship. It's a testament to just how much she's managed to get past my walls, because I'm giving a part of myself to her and trusting her not to abuse that trust. Quite why I feel I can trust her, is something I can't really explain, but my gut instinct tells me that she'd never do me wrong, at least not on purpose. And the fact that I'm able to do this now, after all I've been through, is really nothing short of miraculous.

Maura stiffens at first - she probably isn't used to contact unless she initiates it - and then relaxes as she pats my back and I rub hers. After what I consider to be the correct length of time, I lean back and hand her a napkin for her to wipe her eyes on.

"I'm sorry, I cried on your shirt a little." Maura gestures to my shirt apologetically. "It's been an emotional few weeks."

"Don't worry about it. If a girl can't cry on her friend's shirt then there's something wrong with the world. Listen, I know it's been awful lately, and if you need to talk, you can always talk to me."

"Thank you, and of course, the same is true of me. I think I'm going to like being your friend." Maura's tone was somewhat shy but much more open than she had been before.

I had a good feeling about it; hopeful for the future in a way I hadn't been since I'd been kidnapped by Hoyt. Maybe it was time to move on, try to put all of that behind me and try to live as normal a life as possible.

I pick up my beer and hold it up in a toast. "I think I'm going to like it too. Here's to friendship."

"To friendship," she says, clinking her glass against mine in happy celebration.


End file.
